ad made me
enter.

There was, therefore, at least one still left of the devil's brood in
their ancient haunts, and the sooner that the world was warned, the
better. Or, at least, I would tell my father, and he would get
together a few determined men, who would not be afraid to act according
to their consciences and the necessities of the case.

As for fear, it had clean gone from me. A kind of singing came into my
head instead, but not in my ears, which seemed to act with
extraordinary acuteness. After all it was splendid to know what no one
else on earth knew. Besides, I would show them all, especially Elsie,
what I could do, acting alone. They despised me, laughed at me, yet
here was I I had been away all day, without food, without a soul
thinking about me or caring for me. Nevertheless I, Joe Yarrow, whom
everybody thought an idler, a mere waster of precious time, would
spring this news upon the world!

And so I might, but for one thing.

To get away I had to pass the wall of the old orchard and the flagstone
on which Mr. Ablethorpe and I had seen Mad Jeremy stamping down with
such force. Now, if I had not been such a conceited young man (my
father's words), or so taken up with getting the better of Elsie (that
young person's own opinion), I would have known that any of the crew
who knew the secret of the iron door and the bricked passage would also
be sure to know that of the flagstone and the way out by the orchard.

But at any rate it did not occur to me at the time. I thought solely
about getting home, arming a band, and coming to watch for the
scratcher of the lily beds, the swimmer of the Backwater, the creature
which had opened and shut the iron door--no easy task, as we knew, Mr.
Ablethorpe and I.

So I skirted the water edge of the old orchard hastily. Some stones
had rolled down from the coping, and the walking was difficult. But
there was still a good deal of light, as soon as I had turned the
corner. For the west was bright with a late golden afterglow. Quite
useful it was.

I was just about the middle, just where the gates with their broken
blazons had stood, for it had been a swell place once. Also there was
a short cut across to the Bewick road. I passed between the damaged
stone posts, which, however, still stood upright. As I did so,
something sprang at me with the growl of a hungry tiger. I had hardly
time to glance up, and even then I could see no more than a vaguely
shini